"I'm always amazed when a pitcher becomes angry at a hitter for hitting a home run off him. When I strike out, I don't get angry at the pitcher, I get angry at myself. I would think that if a pitcher threw up a home run ball, he should be angry at himself"
About this Quote
A home run usually produces two emotions at once: elation from the hitter and indignation from the pitcher. Willie Stargell flips that script, calling for accountability rather than resentment. He draws a simple parallel. When a batter swings through strike three, he looks inward. He misread the pitch, his timing was off, his approach broke down. The lesson is personal. By the same logic, if a pitcher leaves a mistake over the plate or gets predictable in his sequencing, the consequence belongs to him. The opponent did not wrong him; the opponent did his job.
The stance reflects a deep respect for craft on both sides of baseball’s most intimate duel. A pitcher controls the ball, selection, location, and tempo. A hitter reads, reacts, and commits. Each outcome is a snapshot of skill, preparation, and execution. Anger directed at the other party, especially the kind that feeds baseball’s old retaliatory instincts, misses the point. It blurs the line between competition and grievance and replaces analysis with ego.
Stargell earned the authority to say it. As a Hall of Fame slugger and the steady center of the Pirates’ clubhouse, he knew the sting of strikeouts and the thrill of tape-measure shots. His ethos was to own both. That posture signals maturity: learn, adjust, and improve rather than punish the result or the person who exposed the mistake. It is the same internal locus of control coaches preach now with video breakdowns and analytics. Fix the release point, rethink the pitch mix, reconsider the count plan. Do not confuse your opponent’s excellence with your own failure to execute.
There is a broader code of respect embedded here. Celebrate achievement, accept consequences, and keep the duel about performance, not grievance. The moment you hand your emotions to the other player, you surrender the chance to get better before the next pitch.
The stance reflects a deep respect for craft on both sides of baseball’s most intimate duel. A pitcher controls the ball, selection, location, and tempo. A hitter reads, reacts, and commits. Each outcome is a snapshot of skill, preparation, and execution. Anger directed at the other party, especially the kind that feeds baseball’s old retaliatory instincts, misses the point. It blurs the line between competition and grievance and replaces analysis with ego.
Stargell earned the authority to say it. As a Hall of Fame slugger and the steady center of the Pirates’ clubhouse, he knew the sting of strikeouts and the thrill of tape-measure shots. His ethos was to own both. That posture signals maturity: learn, adjust, and improve rather than punish the result or the person who exposed the mistake. It is the same internal locus of control coaches preach now with video breakdowns and analytics. Fix the release point, rethink the pitch mix, reconsider the count plan. Do not confuse your opponent’s excellence with your own failure to execute.
There is a broader code of respect embedded here. Celebrate achievement, accept consequences, and keep the duel about performance, not grievance. The moment you hand your emotions to the other player, you surrender the chance to get better before the next pitch.
Quote Details
| Topic | Sports |
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